By Oliver Burton 

As Britain looms on the verge of itโ€™s annual current of problematic heat, the ยฃ7 โ€˜barbiesโ€™ become ยฃ12 overnight, and the country is left in a violent decline as a nationwide famine hits the sunscreen industry. The gardens of terraced houses are a wash with happiness and opulence, Spotifyโ€™s catered โ€˜Summerโ€™ playlist is doing itโ€™s best to reimagine the high spirits of 2018 (before we lost the WC semi of course).

Abbie Ozardโ€™s ‘Growing Pains’ is the sort of song that youโ€™d expect to blossom in such idyllic surroundings – itโ€™s head bobbing rhythmic arrangements and progressive tempo evoke a more sepia toned garden scene than most. However, beneath the lethargic grooves and relatable lyricism exists a purpose that gestures towards the more sensitive indie listeners.

Like many generation z anthems, ‘Growing Pains’ serves as a miniature counselling session, in which, you guessed it, the growing pains of a burgeoning state of relations are discussed. Against a backdrop of angst and uncertainty, Ozard deliberates and puts pressure on the terms of her relationship, the surrounding musicianship setting the scene as itโ€™s both trialled and tested.

Stylistically ‘Growing Pains’ leans effortlessly towards a once-unique lo-fi synth pop sound. A relic of the 1980s redressed by an entire culture of bedroom pop artists, nowadays the popular tonality and musical profile used in ‘Growing Pains’ is ubiquitous rather than unique, and as such the interesting and thought provoking lyrical content is undermined by the musical style, sitting rather uncomfortably in the background.

‘Growing Pains’ is a exercise in strong lyrical prose, engaging with an ever growing sub-genre of confused adolescents.

Listen to ‘Growing Pains’ here:



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